So today I am catching up with my dear friend Jenny, sipping our peppermint tea, and discussing our work as home funeral guides. She recently took care of a friend who died---a good death actually since the friend had taken the time to plan ahead and not leave family second-guessing what she wanted. One of those things was to have Jenny choreograph her funeral at home and direct her friends how to take care of her body during her 3-day vigil.
Shrouding Sisters Blog
I am pretty sure that most churches have some sort of planning guide for their congregants to help them organize those important final send-offs.
So what happens when you randomly ask a bunch of friends and family to help you come up with a novel license tag slogan? Honestly, I didn't know they had it in them to get so creative (especially ANNIE!!!). And, um, well....in too many cases their suggestions were totally over the top!!!?!
Here is a sampling of their ideas. You realize, of course, that license tags only have so much room. So the trick is to capture the pith in eight spaces. You can readily see why so many were immediately disqualified!?!
Kudos to the North Carolina Department of Health and Human Services, Vital Records, for keeping up with the times and updating our Certificate of Death!
Beginning March 1, 2018, you must use the new form. Why? Because the old form had boxes designated for the father's name and mother's name for the deceased person. The new form changes those designations to "Father/Parent Name" and "Mother/Parent Name." This change was intended to reach out to the LGBT community where parents may be same-sex couples.
This past July, when my father shuffled off this mortal coil, my daughter was conflicted about whether she should bring her very young daughter and my only granddaughter (not quite 4 years old) to his funeral. I never hesitated in encouraging her to bring Blum along. It's my firm conviction that children understand life and death from very early on, especially after having seen a dead bug!? And the way this society tries to cover up death, pushing children away from the very natural and beautiful circle of life, just irks me to no end. Trying to protect chi
Let me begin by saying that this whole post is dedicated to my sister, Denni, who managed somehow to get outside of her fear and disgust with all bodily secretions in order that she might help me with Kate's home funeral. All her life, Denni has avoided the sights and smells of what comes out of our orifices. I can still see her fanning the air vigorously while changing one of her children's diapers; gagging over the sight of blood when someone got a scrape; running at MACH speed to avoid someone in the process of vomiting. Me? I was captivated by it all, and still am. These are signs of LIFE!
So I remember back in the summer of 2014, when I was plotting how to begin a Death Cafe in our quaint little city, I came across the funniest stories about the use of the name "Death Cafe." People apparently didn't cotton to it all the time, thinking it cast "doom and gloom" on any social atmosphere. Like, how were you supposed to be convivial and congenial with nomenclature like DEATH defining your surroundings? Wouldn't it boost attendance if you took the word "death" out of the name?
Recently I heard the NICEST married couple proclaim that they were DEAD SET on going out of this world anonymously. They loved the idea of donating their bodies to medical schools first and foremost. But if for any reason that would not work out, they were choosing to have a green burial. And they needed me to make sure that the cemetery they had in mind would bury them without any sort of marker. "We just want to be thrown in the woods!" Well, as it turns out, said cemetery is happy to oblige.
It's the post-Thanksgiving holiday season...time of angels and angst; beauty and the blahs; carols and crises. We came to the table to give thanks last month, and if it was anything like my day, things were so rushed I couldn't even get the luncheon guests to say a blessing. Also on my mind were the memories of Thanksgivings past and all those precious loved ones no longer at the table with us. Our blessed ancestors. To honor these beloved deads, there is a tradition in many cultures around the world of setting a place for them at the table. Holding space for grief and remembrance.
One morning earlier this year I received a phone call from a woman named Alisa. Less than two minutes in to the conversation I knew this was the person associated with the Abundance Community in Pittsboro. She and her husband had managed to get Stephen Jenkinson to come down for a public speaking event. I remember nearly passing out in the bakery when I espied the poster for this event, thinking THE Stephen Jenkinson??? In a little church in PITTSBORO??? As I had just finished reading Jenkinson's "Die Wise," I was eager to hear him in person.